


so no soup?

by sickficbitch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Emetophobia, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting, aoba johsai, enjoy ig, haikyuu sickfic, kinda gross lmao, matsuhana - Freeform, sick matsukawa, wow im back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sickficbitch/pseuds/sickficbitch
Summary: mattsun is sick and doesn't show up at the movie theater so hanamaki goes to his apartment to take care of him
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	so no soup?

“Issei! Where the hell are you? I don’t want to third wheel with the fucking lovebirds,” Hanamaki barked into his phone, eyeing Oikawa and Iwaizumi who were paying for their tickets to the new Godzilla movie they had agreed upon seeing a week ago. He tapped his foot impatiently, momentarily wondering if something bad happened. His anxiety grew as he heard nothing but a groan from the other side of the phone. “Issei?”

“Yeah, sorry Hiro, I’m sick. Shoulda- shoulda told you sooner. I've been asleep.” Matsukawa responded tiredly.

“Sick?” Hanamaki echoed, processing the information. “I’m gonna come take care of you. Plus, I don’t want to hang out with these idiots without you.”

“Hey!” Oikawa whined defensively. 

“Oh no, it’s fine. Makki, I’m just gonna sleep. You don’t need to come over,” Matsukawa tried, but there was no way his boyfriend was having any of it. 

“Nonsense. I will come by with some soup from the place you like, and I’ll hang out with you. It’s fine if you sleep. You should sleep actually.”

“Makki,” A final attempt was made by Matsukawa, and Hanamaki could feel that he was just one more push away from agreeing.

“No, I’m on my way. I’ll see you soon. Just… unlock the door?” 

“Okay,” Matsukawa replied, defeated. He knew better to argue when the redhead had his mind set on something. 

“Okay. See you soon.” Hanamaki beamed. Taking care of his sick boyfriend wasn’t quite what he expected to be doing that night, but he couldn’t help himself but get excited. Matsukawa was notoriously cuddly when he was exhausted, Hanamaki just hoped he wasn’t too seriously sick. He hung up the phone and explained the situation to Oikawa and Iwaizumi. They gave their condolences and decided to still watch the movie. Iwaizumi was the only reason any of them were going to see Godzilla anyway. 

By the time Hanamaki had zipped around collecting all of the sick day essentials from the corner store by Mattsun’s apartment, the sun had set. He yawned widely as he found himself in front of Matsukawa’s door. He tried the handle, trusting his boyfriend had remembered to unlock it. It opened easily (as it was supposed to) and Hanamaki stepped in. 

“Mattsun?” He called out, promptly regretting it, hoping he wasn’t the asshole who just woke the sick man up from his much-needed rest. As he investigated further he found Matsukawa laying on his bed, wide awake and looking distinctly miserable. 

He resembled a sick grade-schooler. His hair was sweaty, the wet curls pasted to his forehead, the skin on his face chalky. He had a glass of room temperature water next to him that was completely full. 

“Hi, Makki.” He rasped, his voice sounding worse and more illness ridden than it did over the phone. Hanamaki approached him with a smile and opened his bag.  
“What symptoms are you having? I brought different medicines.” 

“Uhm, I think I have a fever. I also feel really nauseous and my head hurts.” Hanamaki drove the back of his hand against his clammy forehead, unsurprised by the sticky heat. It didn’t seem like he would just be tired and cuddly, it seemed like he was actually genuinely sick.

“Well, I have fever reducers,” Makki said as he pulled out a small bottle of pills. “Do you think you could take them?” 

“I don’t- I don’t think so," Matsukawa shifted, visibly uncomfortable. "Just the water was making me feel really sick, I don’t know if I could stomach pills right now.” 

“So I don’t suppose you’d want some of the soup that I traveled miles to get?” Hanamaki asked jokingly, pulling out and dangling the clear vessel of soup in front of Matsukawa. 

It just took one look at the beige, stocky soup sloshing around in the container to send him over the edge. He didn’t even have time to lean away from his lap as projectile vomit erupted from his throat. The hot sick splattering down his front and the sheets about him. As the first wave ended he abruptly gasped a breath. He drew his shaking hands to his mouth before he heaved again forcefully, somewhat digested food and stomach acid spraying over his hands. 

Hanamaki was stunned, unable to even move. Guilt and concern battled each other for the right to eat him alive. The offensive scent made Hanamaki gag, he had to actually turn away from the mess of his boyfriend. Makki took a few steadying breathes through his nose and turned back to Matsukawa. He was thankfully no longer actively puking his guts up, but still fighting wet and thick hiccups. His vomit soaked hands waving limply in front of him as if he didn’t know what to do with them. 

“Are you- you okay? Issei?” Hanamaki asked softly, afraid to even communicate with this pathetic and vulnerable version of Matsukawa. 

“I- I-... I’m okay. I- I- I’m okay.” He choked out. He could barely start to gargle out another sentence when the urge to puke overtook his body again. 

“Hey, yeah. That’s it, Mattsun. Just get it out, for now, I’ll clean you up.” Hanamaki encouraged, softly stroking the boy’s back as he hunched over his lap, fully letting his body reject all of the nutrients in it. Matsukawa coughed hard to dislodge the chunks of vomit that stuck to the sides of his throat. 

He took another broad breath, unable to wipe the tears leaking from his eyes due to his sick sodden hands. The scent that surrounded him was horrific, it felt like someone was choking him with sticky fingers. 

“I’m s-so sorry, Hiro,” Matsukawa muttered, feeling guilty. He knew Hanamaki was nervous when it came to stomach illnesses. When someone threw up in a movie they watched he would always flinch and look away. 

“Hey, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry, fuck. Let me go get some towels, okay?” Hanamaki watched his boyfriend slowly nod, and he left to grab some stuff to help clean up. 

Matsukawa clenched his eyes shut, trying to ignore the wet, heavy splatter all over the front of his shirt. The heated weight was soaking through the sheer fabric of his shirt, beginning to stick to his fever-ridden skin. His bottom lip quivered and he gagged repeatedly from the smell. He attempted to take unstable but deep breaths through his mouth to avoid the nauseating scent, but a small amount of stomach acid rushed from his throat. It sprayed all over the revolting puddle of vomit in front of him. 

The taste was more bitter than the rest of the waves of illness and the taste left him feeling extra horrible. He couldn’t help a sob from escaping him as he exhaled, tears dripping from his eyes.

“Oh, oh babe,” Hanamaki came back to see Matsukawa half crying, half dry heaving over his own lap. Spit was trickling down the sides of his mouth. 

Hanamaki hastily sat the boy back by his shoulders. He wiped his boyfriend’s face off, his worry peaking as Matsukawa subconsciously leaned into his hand. After a moment of just holding Matsukawa’s head up for him, Hanamaki made his way down to clean his pukey, trembling hands. 

He slowly peeled the ruined blanket off of Matsukawa. To his dismay, the inside of the sheets was drenched in a cold sweat. He couldn’t even begin to think about how uncomfortable that must have been to lay in. Hanamaki felt a sharp pang of sympathy which only intensified as he looked back up to his boyfriend. Matsukawa looked really out of it. His eyes looked unfocused and distant, Hanamaki had never seen him like this before. His heart ached. 

“Hey, Issei. Do you want another t-shirt or a sweatshirt to change into?” Makki asked, hoping to snap him out of the trance he was in. Matsukawa only mumbled something incoherent, so Hanamaki ruled it was closer to sweatshirt. He helped get the vomit stained shirt off and slide on a soft oversized hoodie. 

After about half an hour, it was hard to tell what had even happened in the room. The foul scent lingered and Makki thought about lighting a candle or something, anything, to help but he didn’t want to trigger anything in his boyfriend’s stomach. 

Now they were settled on Matsukawa’s bed, a new blanket over them, a laptop in front of them playing some dumb movie to lull Mattsun to sleep. For whatever reason, the background sound of movies made Matsukawa very sleepy, which was good for times like these but annoying on date night. 

Matsukawa appeared to be doing better but still looked ghastly pale. Fortunately, he had been sipping water periodically for the past forty minutes without feeling sick. He even managed to take some nausea and fever medications, but he still had a trash can on the side of his bed in case of an emergency. 

“M’ sorry I couldn’t go see that movie with you, Hiro,” Matsukawa mumbled drowsily. Hanamaki’s eyes shifted from his phone screen to the boy leaning heavily on his chest. His hand came up to run through midnight black curls. 

“Is that seriously what you’re thinking about right now? Go to sleep, babe. Also, it’s fine. Oikawa would have talked through the whole thing anyway.” Makki smirked. 

“You’re probably right.” 

“I’m always right.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! find me on tumbr on my haikyuu sickfic blog @haikyuu-but-make-them-puke or my main sickfic reblogging blog @sickfic-bitch!


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